


Interlude

by voiceless_terror



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Memory Loss, Spoilers for Episode 181, Upton House, mental deterioration, some fluff moments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:34:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26750710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voiceless_terror/pseuds/voiceless_terror
Summary: This is not a home.Martin is smiling. Jon thinks it’s the first time he’s seen him smile in a while. He likes it.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 19
Kudos: 218





	Interlude

**Author's Note:**

> Here there be spoilers for the latest episode!

Jon wakes up to a smile.

It is Martin, looking peaceful and well-rested for once. It cuts through the hazy fog of his mind and lands somewhere near his heart. _He deserves a break, doesn’t he?_ He can see the grime etched into the lines on his face- lines that shouldn’t be there, lines that _he_ caused. Outside the birds chirp and a breeze rustles the trees. This is not a home, but maybe they can play at it. An interlude.

The rooms are luxurious. Martin stretches and pours tea from an elaborate set provided by Annabelle. Jon is thirsty and hungry but he’s not going to take anything from a spider unless he absolutely needs to. Martin disagrees, and Jon doesn’t stop him. _It’s probably fine._

There’s a lovely clawfoot tub, barely big enough for two but they make it work. Martin lovingly works through his hair, sorting out tangles and scratching lightly at his scalp. Jon aches with nostalgia, remembering the days of the cabin when Martin had first tentatively touched him after months of the Lonely. They were always touching after that- holding a hand here and leaning against a shoulder there. When Jon ruined everything the touches turned desperate, like clinging to a buoy in a storm. Martin pours tea but the tea _isn’t tea it’s spiders-_

“Jon?” 

He blinks. Martin has a hand on his shoulder. He’s relaxed, utterly at ease. They’re in Upton House. “You went away for a moment there. Still tired, eh? Me too.”

_This is not a home._

When they’re clean and dressed in freshly-laundered clothes, Annabelle arrives. Creeping in the doorway, pointing them to a pantry and telling them to “make themselves at home.” They wait until she leaves to check it out. Jon follows Martin. He has already forgotten the way.

“Look at all of this, Jon! It’s like they raided a gourmet,” Martin scans the stacks, picking things up at random. He’s smiling so wide. Jon thinks it is the first time he’s seen him smile in a while. “What should we have?”

“Hmm.”

“Enlightening,” Martin rolls his eyes but is good-natured as ever. “How about some fruit?” He picks up an apple and holds it out enticingly. “Looks good!” he tempts with a sing-song voice. Jon doesn’t take it and Martin sighs. “Look, it’s only polite.”

“You can have some,” Jon replies. “I’d rather not.”

“You’ll have to eat sometime,” Martin says, taking a bite. “Time works differently here, I think.”

“Hm.”

There is opera playing somewhere in the distance. The house is so big the sound only reaches them in echoes. How long have they been here? His grandmother used to play opera while she cooked. She had a nice voice, humming along with the radio. Jon liked to watch her. It was their ritual in the evenings. She was trying. Jon played along. It was almost like a home, but not quite. Jon wishes for it dearly.

_This is not a home._

Martin is already following the sound of the music, eager to talk to their host. _Mikaele._ Jon is eager too; the temptation of his story is almost too much to bear. He matches his pace and they reach a parlor. Martin knocks before Jon can stop him.

_Mr. Spider has a guest!_ But Jon didn’t bring him a cake. Mikaele smiles and they enter. He’s not a spider, but he’s housing one. Isn’t that the same?

They’ve slept for 71 hours. Jon did not dream. He wonders if Martin did. Mikaele offers them a drink though it is far too early. Jon itches for one, strangely. But he shouldn’t, and he won’t. Their host is coy, leisurely pouring himself a drink and smiling like he has a secret. He does. Jon wants it. There is a tape recorder here and Jon wants to _take take take_ but Mikaele just gives it a delighted smirk, as if the suspicious activity is an exciting turn of events. Jon asks. Mikaele refuses.

_No?_ Jon is confused. He’s not used to being denied, not anymore. Mikaele and Martin laugh but he does not find it particularly funny. But Martin is smiling. Jon thinks it’s the first time he’s seen him smile in a while. He likes it.

Mikaele asks how it is out there in Jon’s world. Jon doesn’t remember. How to put it into words? Does he even have the words to do so? Jon doesn’t think so. He only knows that he is hungry in a way he hasn’t been in a long time, and out there he was not. 

Martin is talking. Martin is telling Mikaele about a quest to turn the world back to how it was. “Martin,” he admonishes. He doesn’t know why he is arguing with him. Martin sees the good, sees the potential and holds onto that desperate hope. It is infuriating but it is also what Jon loves about him. He is human and it is so, _so_ beautiful. But Salesa is no salvation. He has carved out his corner of the world and he plans to stay.

Martin wants to stay too, for a bit. Jon knows this will not last- he would be too guilty, living in paradise while others suffer. And Jon can’t protect them here. Not from Annabelle. Doesn’t Martin know they need to be on their guard? Spiders only look for their next meal. Annabelle will devour them whole.

“Alright, I guess we can stay. Just for a bit.” Why does he say that? Jon is so tired. Martin is tired too. They deserve a rest in this nice big house. Jon has always wanted Martin to have nice things. For the first time he can offer something. 

Mikaele is talking but Jon isn’t interested in small talk. He wants to _know._

_Look at him! Not three days without his master spooning knowledge into his head and he can’t bear it!_

Mikaele is laughing but Jon is not. Martin asks again and the man indulges. It’s nice when Martin wants to know too. He knows he shouldn’t subject him to the statements when he doesn’t like it. But Jon wants to share his knowledge. He wants Martin to want it too.

Martin tells Mikaele he’ll behave. It’s impolite to badger your host, after all.

And Salesa is _smart._ Salesa prepared, Salesa survived. He is quick-witted and an excellent storyteller. Jon is entranced and he tries to drink it in but it is like empty calories, sweet and fleeting. 

_I can die._

_… but still, if it means a comfort...anyway, no more stories I think._

You can’t trust comfort. But Jon tries, for the next few days. For Martin. Martin is at peace here and so is Jon, in a way. He’s never felt a hazy unknowing like this. Annabelle comes and goes but is never seen for long and Jon partakes in her gifts when the hunger gets to be too much. Martin tells him about the flowers and the trees. The sun hits their skin as they stroll the grounds. Jon can’t walk for long but he tries, because Martin is smiling. Jon thinks it’s the first time he’s seen him smile in a while. He likes it.

They see Salesa come and go. Sometimes they talk but Jon can’t remember what it’s about. The tape recorder hasn’t shown up again.

Martin curls around him in bed. “It’s nice, isn’t it?” he whispers.

“I think we need to leave.” Jon whispers back. It is the first real opinion he’s offered in days.

Martin pauses and then squeezes Jon a little tighter. “I know.”

_This is not a home._

They pack and there it is. A tape recorder. Jon hasn’t seen one in days. He figures their peace wasn’t worth listening to, not for whatever is haunting them.

Martin asks one more time. But Jon can’t stay. He can’t remember how they got here. He is scared but the fear is gentle here. And that scares him more. He knows Martin will tire of this place eventually. But not in time for Jon.

Martin is worried about the implications of this. _What happens if we actually do manage to-_ we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Jon doesn’t like to think about it. So he doesn’t.

Annabelle comes and Martin is angry. Martin wants answers. 

_The sun felt nice, didn’t it?_ Jon can’t remember what the sun felt like. Martin pours tea but the tea _isn’t tea it’s spiders-_

“Jon?”

Someone is talking. Someone is asking questions. Is the knowledge even worth it? Annabelle is answering something.

Elias once said that Jon chose this. Every step of the way, he pressed on. 

_Our world is made of choices, Jon, and very rarely do we truly know what any of them mean, but we make them nonetheless._

But did he choose this? Jon doesn’t remember. For some reason, he wants a cigarette. He toys with the lighter in his pocket. 

Annabelle demurs. She is a spider, that’s what they do. _Always behind the scenes, always underestimated._

“I can handle myself.” Martin always has. Martin is strong. Martin doesn’t need him. But Jon needs Martin. And Martin chooses him. It’s a blessing he doesn’t deserve.

“...I’m sorry, what?”

“We’re _leaving.”_

Martin takes his hand and they move towards the door. Annabelle speaks again but Jon isn’t listening.

“That’s the trouble with old houses. Full of spiders.”

_This is not a home._

Annabelle shows them out. It’s fine. Salesa comes to say goodbye, but Jon has to...has to...has to…

_Leave, right._

There is opera playing somewhere in the distance. The house is so big the sound only reaches them in echoes. How long have they been here? His grandmother used to play opera while she cooked. She had a nice voice, humming along with the radio. Jon liked to watch her. It was their ritual in the evenings. She was trying. Jon played along. It was almost like a home, but not quite. Jon wishes for it dearly.

“Jon, let’s go.” _Right, yes._ They were leaving. Martin leads the way.

* * *

Jon feels better in the howling winds. He knows Martin does not, but Martin is brave. Martin is a kind soul. Martin couldn’t bear to watch others suffer when he thinks he can do something about it. And Martin chooses Jon, every time. Martin would never leave him and Jon is so, so afraid.

_That might just be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me._

For the first time, Martin knows something he doesn’t. Jon is as delighted by this as he is saddened. The time slips from his mind like a dream he forgot to write down. 

_It was nice. It was really nice._

Martin is smiling. Jon thinks it is the last time he will see it for a while.   
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Just me, in my feelings again about the last episode and what it means for everything. But hey! Happy October! I'm gonna be working on some prompts, whumptober stuff, and my other fic.
> 
> Let me know your thoughts! You can reach me at @voiceless-terror on tumblr for asks, prompts, and general yelling.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
